Of Writing and Bleeding

He picked up the innocent pen in his cold hand
and sat down to write in his diary,a list of important things he planned to do the next day.
Suddenly out of nowhere- out flew a poem.
It was almost magical.
His heart was in control and not his hand.
The brain was in a hyper active mode.
Everytime he would write a word,his face would become red.
He wondered how writers did it night after night.
How did they write about painful things without feeling it (the pain).
An act of suicide,the death of the soul
letter by letter,word by word.
A pen or a sword in disguise? Who can tell ?